


Porcelain

by floral_veins



Category: Brallon - Fandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: AU, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floral_veins/pseuds/floral_veins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon's skin is porcelain, right at this moment. Unscathed. Polished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> okay guys! well, this is my first fic, i'm pretty happy with it and i hope you enjoy it too :) comments are welcome.

**Title:** Porcelain  
 **Author:** [](http://floral-veins.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://floral-veins.livejournal.com/)**floral_veins**  
 **Pairing:** Brendon/Dallon  
 **Rating:** R  
 **POV:** Third omniscient, Dallon  
 **Summary:** Brendon's skin is porcelain, right at this moment. Unscathed. Polished.  
Pure.  
 **Warnings:** there are self-harm and suicidal subjects in this story. you have been warned, please do not read if you are triggered by this.  
 **Disclaimer:** this story is a work of fiction. none of the events in this story have ever happen nor do i believe they will.  
 **Word count:** 3,389  
 **Author's notes:** okay guys! well, this is my first fic, i'm pretty happy with it and i hope you enjoy it too :) comments are welcome.

"You know," Brendon says, and his breath creates a cloud of fog in the cold air. "Even the most beautiful things in the world wither and die eventually."  
It's about two o'clock in the morning, and the grass around them is frosted over. All of the birds and pretty daytime bugs are gone, and the only sound to be heard is their soft inhales and exhales, perfectly in sync.  
Dallon rolls on his side to look at Brendon and smiles softly. Brendon doesn't smile back, or even look at Dallon, but his eyes become wet and Dallon can see the way his chest is shaking, the way his lips are quivering.  
He reaches out a hand and rubs his thumb over Brendon's cheekbone.  
The wind is biting at Dallon's cheeks, and he starts to worry that Brendon is cold too. He must be.  
Dallon studies Brendon's face, and notices a bruise on his temple that he hadn't seen earlier.

Dallon worries about Brendon. A lot.

Brendon begins to sob, his chest is heaving now, tears falling down the corners of his eyes. Dallon rolls onto his back, startled at first by the freezing earth, and looks over to the side. He sees a dandelion, and he picks it. He holds the small plant up to his nose and smiles before placing it on Brendon's chest.  
Brendon continues to sob, oblivious of the flower placed on him, and Dallon suddenly sits up and leans over Brendon, kissing his jaw softly, whispering against his skin.  
Dallon leaves ghost kisses on every part of Brendon's face as he sobs, trying to make his pain go away, but he knows it won't. Dallon wants to do anything to make Brendon stop hurting, he wishes he could kiss the pain away, if only it were that easy. He trails his lips down Brendon's neck, barely touching skin.  
"Beautiful," he says. "So beautiful."

\----

Dallon and Brendon are walking together along the cobblestone path of Dallon's backyard. It's sunny out, too sunny, and Dallon left his sunglasses on the table inside. He doesn't want to ruin this perfect moment though, so he squints his eyes when the sun hits his face.

This is back when things were good.

Brendon looks over at Dallon and grins. His eyes crinkle at the sides, and he lets out a bubbly laugh.  
He's laughing at something Dallon just said. Dallon doesn't remember what he said, but he doesn't care.  
All he can think of is that he loves Brendon, so much, and Brendon is too fragile, too breakable. Dallon feels his throat start to sting, but laughs along with Brendon despite this. He turns away and squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for his emotions to subside. He feels Brendon leave his side and when he looks back, Brendon is picking a dandelion that was sticking from the ground. Brendon holds it up to Dallon's face and smiles softly. Tucks it behind Dallon's ear. Kisses Dallon's temple.  
Dallon doesn't feel anything.

Brendon's skin is porcelain, right at this moment. Unscathed. Polished.  
Pure.

Dallon can't let anything happen to Brendon, or he'll break. He'll shatter, and so will Dallon.  
Dallon is numb.  
He doesn't squint this time when the sun hits his face.

\----

It's nearly midnight, and Dallon is lying on his bed with his phone to his chest, on speaker, listening to Brendon speak about nonsensical yet thought-provoking topics. Aliens. Ghosts. True happiness.  
It's around this time that Brendon lets his thoughts stray, lets his mind spill everything that's been going on inside that brain of his.  
Dallon is the only person who understands Brendon, but even he doesn't completely know him. He wishes he did. But it's so hard to get Brendon to completely let loose and tell Dallon everything that he's thinking. Dallon is afraid to ask now, because Brendon is too fragile.  
Brendon begins to babble on about theories of the universe, about god and heaven and hell, and damn, I think I left my pills in the car.  
Dallon hates phone calls sometimes. They make him feel lonely, and Brendon's static voice coming out of the speaker reminds him of a ghost of something. He wishes Brendon were here right now, instead of just a voice. The real Brendon.  
Dallon's breathing slows and his eyelids begin to feel heavy. He's nearly asleep when Brendon starts to break down again. His sniffles and whines are projected out of Dallon's phone and throughout the walls of his room. Dallon starts to think that maybe Brendon hasn't taken his pills in a while.  
He whispers "goodnight" into his phone, wondering if Brendon even hears him, and hangs up.

\----

Brendon and Dallon are sitting in silence together on a bench in the park. It's the type of silence that's thick with tension. A bubble waiting to be popped. Dallon shouldn't have hung up the phone a few days ago, because maybe Brendon had something to say. Dallon hates himself for it. He tried calling back the next morning to continue their midnight conversation, but stupid Dallon, he should've known it doesn't work that way. Instead of talking to Brendon about it, or apologizing, he just sits quietly. You can't force things from Brendon.  
They sit in silence for what seems like forever. The air is still thick. Dallon likes to look at the trees and grass and flowers because it reminds him that beauty exists in the world.  
Brendon is beautiful, so, so beautiful, but he's untouchable.  
Next to Dallon, Brendon laughs.  
Dallon asks what's so funny.  
Brendon turns to Dallon, his smile faded, and says, "Do you love me?"  
Brendon looks paler than usual. Dallon's heart sinks, and he stares forward.  
"Forever," he replies, and smiles to himself. What a question.  
Dallon suddenly takes notice that it's eighty degrees out, and Brendon is wearing a sweater.  
He knows what this means, but doesn't say anything. He reaches for Brendon's hand and lifts it to his mouth, kisses his knuckles lightly. Brendon doesn't move, but smiles again. "That tickles," he says, so delicately, and Dallon continues feathering kisses over his knuckles, just to hear Brendon laugh. Even if it's not real.  
And when Brendon's sleeve slides down an inch, exposing the pale flesh of his wrist, Dallon pretends he doesn't see it.  
He looks away, because it hurts. More than you could ever imagine.  
Brendon used to be porcelain. Unscathed.

\----

It's times like these, when Brendon isn't with him, that Dallon likes to think about he and Brendon's old memories together.  
It's much easier to remember Brendon when he was so bright, and happy, and beaming, when he's not actually here and Dallon can't see him the way he is now.  
Every time Dallon sees Brendon it gets a little worse. Dallon can tell.  
But he doesn't do anything about it.  
He's afraid to push it.  
So for now, Dallon is thinking of the time when he and Brendon were together at Brendon's house, and they were in his room giggling and clipping pictures out of old magazines. Dallon remembers how soft Brendon's skin was that day, how deep and brown his eyes were, and how he didn't have a bottle of little white pills on his bedside table.  
Dallon's thinking of the day when they went to the beach and Brendon said that Dallon's eyes were the most beautiful blue he had ever seen, even more beautiful than the ocean that was in front of them. Dallon kissed him right there on the shore, and he remembers how Brendon tasted like sea salt and sunshine. They stayed there and watched the sunset from the lifeguard tower, and Dallon remembers how Brendon didn't wince when he grabbed his wrist to wake him up when it was time to go home.  
Now that his thoughts are wandering, he's thinking of the time when he and Brendon were kissing in his sister's room when they got carried away while laughing and looking at all of the makeup and girly clothing. He's thinking about Brendon's swollen lips and mussed hair after spending a good half an hour kissing, and how when he pulled Brendon's shirt up over his head, there were no bruises marking the pale flesh over his ribs.  
Dallon smiles at these fond memories, and feels something damp on his cheeks. Dallon laughs out loud at himself when he realizes they're tears. He wipes them away with his hand and shuts his eyes, tries to fall asleep, but fails. Instead, Dallon cries, lets the sobs shake through his body, because he's so stuck on the past. He can't let these memories go, no matter what. It's impossible. Dallon's sorrow forms into anger, because why, why does Brendon have to be like this? Why can't he just be normal? Dallon is so, so in love with this boy, Brendon. He's his whole world.  
But Dallon's world is ending.

\----

Dallon is lying on the frosted grass again, at two o'clock in the morning, and he's looking up at the sky. But this time, Dallon’s alone. He's trying to feel something. He's looking at the endless, black sky and wondering what's out there. Dallon stares at the sky and wonders if God is real.  
He's thinking that maybe God isn't real, but that there might be something else out there. A powerful embodiment watching over everything and everyone.  
So Dallon squeezes his eyes shut, and says something, a prayer to this greater power that's maybe, possibly out there. And now he's getting angry, because why does everything bad happen to the people that are good? Brendon doesn't deserve the sadness and regret and self-loathing that's thrust upon him every day.  
Dallon flicks at a piece of grass on his chest. He starts to speak.  
He's pleading, "Just take care of Brendon."  
And now Dallon is completely numb, because of the cold, and maybe something else too. His skin is icy, and the air is so frigid that with every inhale, his nose stings a bit. But this is what he wants. Dallon wonders if his teardrops will freeze as they run down his cheeks.  
"I'm not ready to let go."

\----

“Sometimes,” Dallon says, brushing a lock of hair off of Brendon’s face, “Sometimes I wish I knew how to quit you.”

\----

Dallon and Brendon are sitting together in the overgrown grass covering the backyard of an abandoned house. They’re surrounded by thorny shrubs and a barrier of what, a long time ago, must have been a pristine white picket fence. The paint has peeled and the wood is chipped and decomposing from termites. The back of the house looks nearly identical. But it’s quiet, and serene, and the sound of the crickets and leaves is calming. The sky is merging now, into colors blossoming into peach and wine and the clouds are disappearing. It’s all so beautiful, and unconventional, because this old house is what most people would think is ugly, and ragged, but Dallon and Brendon don’t think so at all. They see a hollow shell of something that was once beautiful, and it still is, except now it’s broken. They come here all the time to escape. To talk. About anything, really. Because when Dallon’s with Brendon, it doesn’t matter what they’re doing. As long as Brendon is still here, living and breathing and warm, Dallon is okay with it. And now Dallon’s over-thinking it, because as he looks over at Brendon, he realizes that this place is just like Brendon. Beautiful. So, so, beautiful. But broken.  
Brendon reaches his hand out to Dallon’s and interlocks their fingers. Brendon’s skin is warm, for the first time in a while.  
“I want to get out of here,” Brendon says, solemnly.  
Dallon frowns. “But we just got here.”  
Brendon giggles, a sudden burst of sunshine in this dark place. “Not _here_ here, Dallon.” He starts chewing on his lower lip. “I mean…” Brendon seems unable to decipher what he’s implying, but Dallon understands.  
And Dallon wants to get out of here too. So badly. He wants to escape with Brendon, somewhere far, and alone. Where no one can bother them. Where nothing can hurt Brendon.  
Dallon squeezes Brendon’s hand. “Maybe we should just live right here. Doesn’t it feel like we’re alone here?” Because it does. Right now, there’s no one else in the world except for them, and nothing else matters. Dallon suddenly imagines him and Brendon lying here until they die, their turgid bodies eventually decomposing into the earth around them, causing a bed of flowers to bloom. Dallon thinks the flowers where Brendon lies would be beautiful.  
Brendon’s smile is gone, and he says, “Sometimes I just want to really escape.” Brendon looks up at the sky of muddled colors, and his face looks at peace for a moment. “I’m thinking that maybe we should escape together, Dallon.”  
Brendon’s grip on Dallon’s hand tightens, and he whispers, “I want to leave this world.”  
Suddenly, the crickets and leaves don’t sound so peaceful anymore, and the world around them is ugly.  
Dallon shuts his eyes, almost unable to form his words, and says, “Don’t ever say that, Brendon.”  
But instead, Brendon crawls over on top of Dallon, pressing his face into his neck, and Dallon feels the dampness on his skin almost immediately. Dallon presses his lips to the top of Brendon’s head and wraps his arms around Brendon, who suddenly feels so small, and so helpless, and Dallon wants nothing more than to make everything better. He wants to kiss Brendon over and over and tell him that there’s hope, there’s so much hope for him and Brendon can never leave him, ever, because Dallon would die without him.  
“ _IwanttoleaveIwanttoleaveIwanttoleave_ ,” Brendon says, over and over again, sobbing, and Dallon squeezes Brendon tighter.  
“If you leave,” Dallon whispers, and takes a deep breath. “I’ll fall apart.”  
They lay there cradling each other until the sky is black, and bright white orbs are peeking through the darkness.  
Dallon never wants to let go.

\----

The thing about Brendon is that he used to be the happiest boy Dallon knew. Sometimes, Dallon didn’t doubt that he was the happiest boy on earth. Back when Brendon would come over to Dallon’s every night and he would be beaming, and his eyes were like stars and he would radiate this sort of happiness that Dallon could feel. And when Dallon would ask why he was so happy, Brendon didn’t even have a valid reason. The image of Brendon, with his carefree smile and bubbly laugh, it’s etched into Dallon’s mind. It’s absolutely jarring now that Dallon thinks of it, and he realizes how easy it must be, and how little time it must take for one person to fall apart.  
When Dallon first met Brendon, Brendon was eighteen, and absolutely clueless about the world around him. He still thought that life was going to be a breeze, and yeah, there will be hardships along the way, but nothing you can’t get past. Brendon said that when his mother was still alive, she always told him that he would be big someday. He would be the CEO of a huge company, or maybe an actor, or a singer, but whatever it was, Brendon would thrive. And Dallon just smiled sadly when Brendon told him that, because he was so naïve. He was too unprepared for the world. Dallon’s not saying that you can’t chase your dreams; he’s just worried that Brendon thinks it will be easy. But Dallon wanted to help him through every step. Dallon knew that when the reality of life finally caught up with Brendon, the impact would be tremendous.  
But Dallon was naïve too, in his own way, because he never really tried to explain this all to Brendon.  
He was in love, and people do stupid things when they’re in love.  
Because when Brendon came over that first night, and he wasn’t beaming just like he always had, Dallon was too scared to ask.  
Too scared that maybe if Dallon said something, Brendon would run. Or blame Dallon. Or hurt himself.  
And the next morning, when he went to greet Brendon, he saw the angry red scratch marks covering his wrists. But he said nothing.  
And the week after, when he went out for dinner with Brendon, he pretended the bruises blossoming on Brendon’s cheekbone must have been an accident. Maybe he bumped into something.  
When Brendon came over one night with his eyes puffy and hands shaking, and he ran into Dallon’s arms, Dallon knew that he was in deep.  
He wasn’t beaming anymore. And it made Dallon’s heart shatter.  
The day that Brendon showed Dallon the little white pills he takes, says they’re antidepressants, and gives him the first smile Dallon’s seen in weeks, Dallon expects everything to get better soon.  
But Dallon should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.  
Dallon was stuck in his own little world too; one where you can just swallow a pill and you’ll have instant happiness.  
Dallon runs his fingers over the underside of his arm and pinches hard. Just to feel something. Dallon hates feeling numb. But now it’s just his default state.

\----

A few days ago, Brendon and Dallon were lying together on Brendon’s bed, shoulders touching, when Brendon says, “What would you do if I disappeared?”  
And Dallon turns to look at Brendon, who’s looking back expectantly, with those captivating brown eyes. “I’d disappear with you.”  
Brendon’s expression saddens, and he extends his pale arm to touch Dallon’s face. He traces his thumb over Dallon’s jaw, and says quietly, “If I ever leave, don’t ever think for a moment that it was because of you.”  
Brendon’s voice falters, and he whispers, “You were the only happiness I had through all of this.”  
And Dallon doesn’t know what to say. So instead he just leans over. Presses a kiss to the corner of Brendon’s mouth. Runs his hand through Brendon’s hair. Just to confirm that he’s real. Here. Breathing.  
And Brendon wraps his arms around Dallon’s waist and kisses him back harder.  
Brendon moves his lips to Dallon’s ear. Dallon feels Brendon’s breath on his skin when he speaks, tells him, “I leave, you leave, right?” Dallon can feel Brendon’s heart beating against his chest, and right now, they are one.  
Dallon hopes that there’s a heaven somewhere. So he could spend all of eternity with Brendon, never having to worry about death, or sadness, and he’ll never have to hear Brendon’s voice break. He wants to go somewhere where he never has to see tears running down Brendon’s cheeks, or red slashes on Brendon’s wrists. And all of this just sounds so undeniably promising.  
So Dallon nods.

\----

Dallon was sitting in his room when he got the call.  
When he picked up his phone and saw that it was his mother calling, he burst into tears because he knew exactly what she was going to say.  
Apparently, Brendon was found in his room, on his bed, unconscious with an empty bottle of pills lying on the floor next to him.  
Dallon hated himself. He hated himself for not being there, not asking if Brendon was okay, not asking why he hurts himself or if he needed help.  
A week later, Dallon doesn’t feel numb anymore as he’s lying on the frosted grass at two o’clock in the morning. He’s listening to the sounds of the night; crickets and leaves rustling.  
He lets out a breath into the cold air just to see the cloud of fog that forms in front of him.  
Dallon looks up at the same sky that, just over a week ago, he was looking at with Brendon.  
Dallon starts to speak again to the higher power that’s maybe, possibly out there.  
He asks how Brendon is doing. Asks if Brendon is beaming, instead of trembling, and if his eyes are bright again instead of lifeless. Most of all, Dallon wants to know if Brendon’s skin is like porcelain again, restored. Not a scratch, or mark, or anything that might imply that Brendon’s short life was filled with sorrow.  
Dallon smiles up at the pitch black sky, and he feels like someone’s watching. Dallon takes a shaky breath, and tears are flowing down his cheeks.  
“See you soon, Brendon.”


End file.
